Paid In Full
by CeliaEquus
Summary: The long-awaited sequel to "Indebted"! Tom is now making himself a better person - and creating a better life - for Hermione. Will she ever be able to appreciate it? Will he ever win her love? Usual disclaimers apply.
1. The Interview

"The Interview"

Tom was called in to the headmaster's office.

"Please, take a seat, Tom."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

"Nonsense. You've been out of school a few years now. And if you are successful in this interview, then you shall be calling me by my first name. So, please. It's 'Albus'."

"Thank you… Albus." Tom tried to suppress a grin, but it didn't work. Instead, he began to fiddle with the front of his robes, which he always did when he was nervous. Of course, he concealed his hands under the desk for this, but Dumbledore knew of this habit anyway.

"You have come to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship?"

"Yes, sir. Albus."

"Very good. Do you have references with you?"

They both knew that this was a mere formality, and that Dumbledore never hired based on a person's references. But Tom handed him three scrolls nonetheless, and watched as the headmaster unrolled them.

* * *

Ever since he was born, Tom Riddle knew that there was some reason he had to stay on the straight and narrow. He had a dark nature, and loads of ambition. This caused the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin, without a moment's hesitation. But, the older he got, the more he had the feeling that he would regret it forever if he followed his desires to become a Dark Lord.

It was his sixteenth birthday when he had the first dream.

It was of a young woman, just a few years older than him. In the dream, he loved her with surprising ferocity. She was a captive of his.

He saw how his ambitions had come to fruition, though he was less than impressed by his serpentine visage, especially as it frightened and disgusted the girl. Yes, she feared him, even as he loved her.

The night of his seventeenth birthday was the worst yet: he saw her death.

"No!" he had shouted, shooting up in bed. He panted, sweat pouring down his face. Or was that tears? Probably both. Either was, he was glad that he was Head Boy.

He couldn't sleep after that.

By graduation, he had remembered everything from the future, including his trip to Mt. Olympus, and the gods' warning. His ambitions, by now, had changed. He wanted to make himself a good person, the kind of person she could love, or at least respect. He knew that their age difference would be great, and that she may never come to love him; not the way he loved her.

For he had indeed fallen in love with her.

So he had to be a good person.

He graduated from Hogwarts with the highest marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts since Salazar Slytherin.

After Hogwarts, Tom went to a wizarding university, where he obtained a degree in Defence Against the Dark Arts, a degree in teaching, and a Mastery in Defensive Spellwork. The Ministry had offered him a place in their Auror program when he left school, and again after he finished his university training. But he refused, even when they said that he could name his salary.

He was determined to become a professor at Hogwarts. Certainly, he wanted to teach others to defend themselves from the kind of person he had become before the gods helped him. But, above all, he wanted to see Hermione, and teach her himself.

"Congratulations, Tom," the Dean of the university had said, handing him his final certificate.

"Thank you, sir," he said, and they shook hands.

He set off to Hogwarts that afternoon.

* * *

"…and that is why I believe myself to be best suited for the job," Tom finished.

Dumbledore was smiling and nodding. Tom was far too good an Occlumens for him to read his thoughts.

"That was very good, Tom. Now I would like to hear the whole truth."

"That _was_, sir… I mean, Albus."

"Now, Tom. If you do not tell me, I cannot consider you for this position."

He paled. "B-but… you can't do that!"

"Yes, I can, as you well know."

Tom sighed, and bowed his head. "You will think me mad."

"Indulge me."

"Very… very well." He sighed again, and looked up. "Once upon a time, I would have already amassed a number of followers by now. I would have slowly been taking over the wizarding world, eradicating Muggles, Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. That changed, though."

"How did it change?"

"It was all a woman. Not much more than a girl, really. She feared me. I was an evil, soulless man, hated by many. Because of me, she died."

"Is that so?"

"It was in battle, you see. She fulfilled the Life Debt she owed me; and, in doing so, was killed. I was distraught. I searched for answers, a way to bring her back." He stood up, and began to pace. "Finally, the only conclusion that I came to was… to go to Mt. Olympus." He paused. "So I did."

"Tom…"

"Let me finish." He held up a hand. "Albus, just let me finish." The headmaster nodded, his brow furrowed, head tilted. "I went through horrific trials, but succeeded. They said that they would bring her back the only way they could—by reworking the past. They said that, if I followed a different path, she would not have to die." He laughed hollowly. "They said that she may never love me. But… but I don't care. Well, I do," he admitted. He drew in a shaky breath. "Oh, Albus, I want her love so badly." He looked at his feet. "However, I just wished for her to live her life, whichever way she wanted it. So they gave me another chance. And… here I am."

"How much younger, Tom?"

Another pause. "About fifty years, h-headmaster." He collapsed back onto the seat opposite Dumbledore. He lowered his Occlumency shields, allowing him to see it for himself, including every dream that he had had. Finally, Dumbledore nodded, and Tom replaced the shields, which were just a natural part of him.

"Very well. I believe you, Tom. Your motives for this job—while partly selfish—are, for the most part, good." He gave him back the scrolls. "I could not find a person better suited to the position. You're hired."

**

* * *

**

Finally! The long-awaited sequel to "Indebted". Thank you to alannalove1990 for helping me choose a name for this story. By the way, there will be another sequel, taking place after this one, about Severus and Luna. If you recall, they were briefly together in "Indebted", and I want to give them a story of their own.

**Anyway, I'm placing this in the Headmaster Riddle Challenge, since – to give the ending away – it will fit.**

**Please review!**


	2. The Student

"The Student"

"_They said that she may never love me. But… but I don't care. Well, I do," he admitted. "However, I just wished for her to live her life, whichever way she wanted it. So they gave me another chance. And… here I am."_

"_How much younger, Tom?"_

_Another pause. "About fifty years, h-headmaster." He collapsed back onto the seat opposite Dumbledore. He lowered his Occlumency shields, allowing him to see it for himself, including every dream that he had had. Finally, Dumbledore nodded, and Tom replaced the shields, which were just a natural part of him._

"_Very well. I believe you, Tom. Your motives for this job—while partly selfish—are, for the most part, good." He gave him back the scrolls. "I could not find a person better suited to the position. You're hired."_

The first of September, 1961. Professor Riddle looked around the Great Hall, eyes sad. He kept an eye on his Slytherins while they all waited for the new first years to arrive. Every year was another year's difference in their ages. Every year was yet another year before her arrival. Every year…

He sighed. Dumbledore coughed, and raised an eyebrow. Tom smiled half-heartedly at him.

"Is something the matter, Tom?"

"Just the same, headmaster," he said.

"It never changes, does it?"

"Never," Tom whispered, looking up as the doors opened. Minerva led the students down between the tables. She seemed so young, too young to be a deputy-headmistress. But the job of deputy nearly always went to the Transfiguration professor. She was, admittedly, brilliant at her job. It helped that she got on well with Dumbledore. Gryffindors stuck together, after all.

Tom clapped politely for each student, and more enthusiastically for the new Slytherins. Names barely registered. Not until one certain name was spoken:

"Dagworth-Granger, Hermione."

His head shot up. A short girl with a mass of bushy, brown hair walked up the steps to the stool. Their eyes met briefly – brown and brown – but it felt like forever to Tom. She sat down, and Minerva placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Hermione," he breathed. Only Dumbledore heard him.

"It is her, isn't it, Tom?"

He nodded slowly, watching as the hat made its decision.

"Ravenclaw!"

He breathed a sigh of relief, and clapped loudly as she joined the Ravenclaws. It would have been far more awkward had she been a Gryffindor.

But what was he thinking? She was still much younger than he was. He'd been teaching for more than ten years! She would never want him.

What people might have thought had they seen the mixture of emotions on the usually-stoic professor's face is anyone's guess. Shock, hope, hesitation, relief, happiness, and then bitter disappointment. He only half-listened the rest of the meal, running on autopilot.

Tom had been looking forward to this day ever since he started teaching. He hadn't been prepared for it to arrive this early, and certainly never considered how painful it would be to see her; see her, but never touch her. It broke his heart all over again to think that she would never want him.

But… but he could dream, couldn't he?

* * *

The first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They were nervous, because Professor Riddle was Respected. And if he was Respected, then he must have been Stern.

Hermione Dagworth-Granger was confident. She had read all of her books, and was prepared for any questions that might be thrown at her. Her uncle had instructed her in potions, and her parents in every other branch of magic that she would be learning. Since Grindelwald had been defeated four years before she was born, there was little need for Defence, but 'better safe than sorry' was the motto.

She sat up straighter in her chair when Professor Riddle called her name. He gazed at her for a few seconds, and she looked right back at him. Finally, he continued taking the roll, and then began the class.

While they worked, Hermione kept thinking about the unfathomable look in his eyes when he stared at her. It was like he knew her, and yet she was certain they had never met.

Either way, she proved herself during the lesson, and earned fifteen points for Ravenclaw by the end of the class.

"Well done, Miss Dagworth-Granger," Professor Riddle said. She paused in packing her bag, and beamed up at him.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"Your family has taught you well."

"They have, sir."

"Keep at it, and Ravenclaw may win the House Cup this year." He raised an eyebrow. "On second thoughts…"

"I will bear that in mind, sir. May I leave now? I have Transfiguration next."

"Of course," he said, half-smiling. She looked away under his continued scrutiny. "Good day, Miss Dagworth-Granger."

"Good day, sir." Hermione hurried from the room, joining the rest of the students bustling between classes. They scuttled into their various rooms, and settled down quickly even though the professor wasn't there yet. Just a tabby cat perched atop the desk. Once the bell had rung to signal the start of the class, and the door was shut, the cat jumped down from the desk, only to turn into a woman before their very eyes.

Many gasps emerged from the students, and Hermione's eyes widened. She had never met a real live Animagus before, at least not that she could remember. The woman's eyes twinkled as she looked at the startled children.

"I am Professor McGonagall, and this is Transfiguration," she said. "What you have just witnessed is one of the most complex pieces of human Transfiguration. It is not yet taught at Hogwarts, as it is far too advanced for the average student…"

Hermione immediately decided that she would become an Animagus one day. After all, she was going to be far from average.

* * *

"Hi!"

Hermione swivelled around in her seat as a young redhead sat beside her.

"Hello," she said.

"I'm Molly Prewett," the stranger said. "Gryffindor. You?"

"I'm Hermione Dagworth-Granger," she replied. "Ravenclaw." She rolled her eyes, giggling. "Clearly."

"Pleased to meet you." They shook hands. "I remember you from last night. There aren't many people who have hyphenated last names in the wizarding world."

"I think my mother's family might have Muggle blood somewhere," Hermione said, and she chewed her lower lip. "I'm not sure."

"My older brothers – they're twins – heard from Laurentia Fletwock that you got thirty points for Ravenclaw in your first class."

"Only fifteen," Hermione said, blushing. "But I got another fifteen in Transfiguration. Is that what they meant?"

"I don't know," Molly said dismissively, grabbing a roll from the bread basket. "We're going to have to watch you. Ravenclaw will have the house cup if we don't pull up our socks very soon."

"Thank you. Are you allowed to eat here?"

"Fabian and Gideon said I could," she said, frowning. "Hmm." She turned around, and Hermione looked in the same direction. Two tall and gangly boys with ginger hair were grinning from the Gryffindor table. "They wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't what?"

"Oh!" Molly turned back around, flushing to the tips of her ears. "It would be just like them to pull a prank like this." She shook her head. "Aggravating devils." She sighed. "Maybe I should go…"

"There's nothing in _Hogwarts: a History_ about this," Hermione said. "I read it, and I'm sure there are no rules against sitting at different tables."

Molly grinned. "All right."

A red-haired boy sat beside her, looking surprisingly moony-eyed for an eleven-year-old.

"Hi, Molly," he said. "We didn't get a chance to speak after class today…"

"Hello, Arthur," she said, not even glancing at him.

"What did you think of our first class?"

Hermione could see that Molly felt awkward, and jumped to the rescue. "Hello, there. I'm Hermione Dagworth-Granger. What's your name?"

"Oh!" he said, suddenly noticing her. "Sorry. I'm Arthur Weasley. Gryffindor."

"I remember you from last night. You looked relieved to have been Sorted there. Is there a family history?"

"Yeah," he said, gazing at Molly again. "We've had a few Hufflepuffs in the family, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor. The lion's den. Grr." He made a clawing motion at Molly, who looked absolutely horrified.

Hermione suppressed a laugh. Her parents had been right. She was going to like it here.

**

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**

Okay! There'll be a time jump between this chapter and the next one, because I'm in that kind of mood. The story will be five chapters long, by the way. Don't think that cruel. As I said in the previous post, there'll be a third part, focussing on the relationship between Luna and Professor Snape.

**One of the Marauders will be making an appearance in chapter four, by the way. (Just something for you to look forward to.)**

**Ciao!**


	3. The Professor

"The Professor"

_A red-haired boy sat beside her, looking surprisingly moony-eyed for an eleven-year-old._

"_Hi, Molly," he said. "We didn't get a chance to speak after class today…"_

"_Hello, Arthur," she said, not even glancing at him._

"_What did you think of our first class?"_

_Hermione could see that Molly felt awkward, and jumped to the rescue. "Hello, there. I'm Hermione Dagworth-Granger. What's your name?"_

"_Oh!" he said, suddenly noticing her. "Sorry. I'm Arthur Weasley. Gryffindor."_

"_I remember you from last night. You looked relieved to have been Sorted there. Is there a family history?"_

"_Yeah," he said, gazing at Molly again. "We've had a few Hufflepuffs in the family, but I wanted to be in Gryffindor. The lion's den. Grr." He made a clawing motion at Molly, who looked absolutely horrified._

_Hermione suppressed a laugh. Her parents had been right. She was going to like it here._

Third year:

On the nineteenth of September there was a big party in the Ravenclaw common room. Devlin Whitehorn – the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team – had turned eighteen the same day Hermione turned fourteen. The previous year, they had held a double-party, but got in trouble for the amount of noise they made. This time, Hermione had received her presents before breakfast, and then Devlin's party was that night.

"Here's to the future!" they all cheered. Devlin was excited about the new broom his parents had bought for him, and proceeded to give a demonstration.

It didn't last long.

One of the second years – Rita Skeeter – had been knocked over when he went flying past, so Hermione took her to the hospital wing. While they were there a Slytherin student was brought in with the stomach flu. Professor Riddle helped him onto the bed, and then noticed Hermione.

"Miss Dagworth-Granger," he said, nodding at her. "Miss Skeeter."

"Hello, Professor," the girls said.

"What happened?"

"Uh… I fell over," Rita said, avoiding his gaze. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Too much excitement with the birthday party, professor," Hermione said, also evasive.

"Yours or Whitehorn's?"

"His."

"I have not had a chance to wish you happy birthday," he said, tilting his head. "I hope you have had a pleasant day."

"Yes, sir," she said, blushing. He half-smiled, and then watched as the new medi-witch, Madame Pomfrey, administered potions to his student. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, Miss Granger."

It wasn't until she and Rita had left the hospital wing that Hermione realised something. He had left out the 'Dagworth' part of her name.

_Just 'Granger' sounds better, especially coming from him_, she thought. Then her eyes widened. She wasn't getting a crush on her teacher… was she?

* * *

Fourth year:

Hermione had never really considered going out with someone from another house. In fact, she had never considered going out with anyone, since she 'had a thing' for Professor Riddle. However, since he was her teacher – and would never be interested in someone like her – she tried to get over him.

On Valentine's Day she received a card from one of the Gryffindors in her year, Alastor Moody. She'd met him a few times before, mostly through Molly. From what she remembered, he was nice, if a bit reserved.

Laurentia, one of the sixth-year Ravenclaws, was going out with Broderick Bode from Hufflepuff. Since it was obvious that inter-house dating was permissible, Hermione – surprisingly shy herself – went over to the Gryffindor table.

"Hi," she said to Alastor, scuffing the ground with the toe of her shoe. He looked up at her, and turned red.

"Hello," he said.

"Thank you for the card." She held it up. "It's… it's my first Valentine."

"Oh! I didn't know that. I would've thought you…"

"No."

"Uh, you're welcome, then. I was wondering if…" He trailed off, noticing the stares of his housemates. They all looked away quickly when he scowled at them, but he was smiling when he turned back to Hermione. "Would you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, and nodded. He grinned.

* * *

Fifth year:

Alastor and Hermione were boyfriend and girlfriend for almost a year, until they realised that they behaved more like friends than an actual couple. In fact, they hadn't even kissed, both too insecure to make a move. Also, they were too different. They never argued; that wasn't a problem. It was just that Hermione preferred to go to the library, or even join her friends on the Quidditch pitch for an occasional fly around, and Alastor preferred to train for the Auror Academy.

There wasn't a break-up. They just started going to Hogsmeade with their friends, making a large group instead, and there were no romantic gifts or hand-holding. Hermione still helped him study for his OWLs, but she did that with all of her friends.

"You'd be a great teacher," he remarked one day.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, looking away, but still smiling.

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Well… no, you haven't."

"You see? You should give it some thought. What would you teach?"

"I'm not sure. All of the teachers here are brilliant. They wouldn't need me."

"Don't think like that," Alastor said. "This is only fifth year. Anything can happen in that time."

* * *

Sixth year:

Prefect's badge shining, Hermione eagerly blocked Professor Riddle's spells. She even managed to hex him, although it was only a Cheering Charm. Truth was, she always loved his smiles. They were rare, and all the more precious because of that.

"Well done," he said, and he ended the charm. He returned to his usual unsmiling, piercing gaze. Hermione was glad that she was already flushed from exertion.

"Thank you, sir," she said. He nodded, and moved on to the next student. She sighed, and looked at him the way Arthur and Molly looked at each other. If only Professor Riddle would look at her _that_ way.

But he never could. He never would.

* * *

Summer:

In celebration of receiving her Head Girl badge, Hermione's family took her in to Muggle London to see _The Mousetrap_. Arthur had taken Molly to see it the week after they finished their sixth year, and they both recommended it, though Arthur was disappointed that there were no actual mousetraps in it.

_Honestly, I don't know whether to be amused or worried about the fact that he wanted to see a show all about Muggle gadgets_, Molly wrote. Hermione had laughed, and asked her family if they could attend the show.

"It's been running for fourteen years," she said.

So they went to the show.

It was during this summer that Hermione _most_ came to appreciate Muggles, adding a whole new dimension to what she learned in Muggle Studies.

And it was during this summer that she worked out what she wanted to do.

* * *

Seventh year:

"Professor, might I have a word?" she asked after class one day.

"Of course, Hermione," Professor McGonagall said. "Surely you don't need help in Transfiguration?"

"No, professor. But I'm interested in learning to become an Animagus. Could you help me?"

"My dear," she said, "much as I respect your talents, it will take at least one year, likely more. There are instructors outside of Hogwarts, though…"

"I'll be here, professor."

"…You will? Why?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Hermione grinned proudly. "I'm going to be doing an apprenticeship in Muggle Studies. Professor Montague will be retiring in the next five years, and has agreed to take me on."

"Why, that's wonderful, Hermione! You would make a fine teacher."

"Well, if I'm even half as good as you – or any of the other teachers here – I will be more than happy."

_And I'll be close to Professor Riddle_, she thought.

**

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**

We're getting there, readers! Only two more (long-ish) chapters to go. Hurrah!

**I did warn you that there would be skips in time. I sort of wanted to start this chapter when Hermione first becomes aware of her feelings for her DADA professor.**

**If anyone objects to Hermione having gone out with Alastor, I've got four titles for you:**

"**How Will It Turn Out?"**

"**My Romance"**

"**Healer Granger"**

"**The Professor and the Apprentice"**

**Review, please!**

**By the way, all the people mentioned in this story are real characters (would that be a contradiction in terms?), unless you discount Hermione Dagworth-Granger.**


	4. The Colleague

"The Colleague"

"_I'll be here, professor."_

"…_You will? Why?" Professor McGonagall asked._

_Hermione grinned proudly. "I'm going to be doing an apprenticeship in Muggle Studies. Professor Montague will be retiring in the next five years, and has agreed to take me on."_

"_Why, that's wonderful, Hermione! You would make a fine teacher."_

"_Well, if I'm even half as good as you – or any of the other teachers here – I will be more than happy."_

_And I'll be close to Professor Riddle, she thought._

There was a staff meeting the night of Hermione's twenty-fifth birthday. She had been an apprentice for five years, and then took over from Professor Montague. This was her second birthday as a professor of Hogwarts, and party food had been set up for the after-meeting snack.

Even though there was an age difference of almost twenty years between Minerva and Hermione, they still got on like a residence aflame. Tom envied the Transfiguration teacher something dreadful. He watched as the two women laughed over something in _Witch Weekly_, no doubt confiscated from a student. Hermione pushed back a clump of hair, and he longed to be able to do that himself.

Just then, she looked up and across the room, and their eyes met. She stopped laughing, but her lips were still slightly parted as they gazed at each other. Before anyone could notice, however, Dumbledore entered the room.

"Since Minerva told me to leave the singing until the end of the meeting, let us begin as usual," he said, and he winked at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, grinning, and crossed her arms as she sat back.

"Thank you, Minerva," she murmured. The witches in the room chuckled. The headmaster cleared his throat, regaining attention.

"First of all, detentions…"

An hour later, they gathered around the food table, and Filius led them in a noisy rendition of "Happy Birthday". The candles on the cake were lit, and Hermione bent over to blow them out.

"Make a wish!" Dumbledore said. Hermione's eyes flickered to Tom, so quickly that he could easily have imagined it. Closing her eyes, she blew out all the flames in one go, and received a loud cheer for her success. She seemed to think for a moment – no doubt deciding on a wish – and then smiled at the other members of staff. The women were all crowded around her, tittering about how she was growing up.

"We need a knife for the cake," Minerva said. "Where is it? Oh, Tom! Could you bring the knife? It's just by that goblet… yes, that one."

He picked it up obediently, and brought it over to Hermione. Their fingers brushed as he passed it to her, and she appeared to swallow as they made eye contact again. But she looked away promptly this time, and immediately pressed the knife to the cake. With little effort it sank through the frosting and sponge until it hit the bottom of the plate with a distinct 'chink'.

"Now you have to kiss the nearest male," Poppy said. She smirked as she tilted her head towards Tom.

He took a step back, horrified that he had been put in this position. Had he done it subconsciously? Placed himself near the knife? But he was no Seer; he could never have predicted this turn of events.

"Well?" Hermione asked, looking up at him. "Are you going to give me my first kiss?"

_Her first kiss_? he thought. It seemed everyone else was equally shocked.

"Hmm." He studied her expression. She looked nervous, but also looked as though she was trying to be brave. Did he really frighten her that much? Maybe this was something to do with her past life… or was it her future life?

"You're stalling, Tom," Dumbledore said. Tom glanced at him, and narrowed his eyes. That damn twinkle. The headmaster had arranged this!

He sighed, and bent down. Hermione closed her eyes; but he just brushed his lips across her cheek before pulling away.

"Save it for the man you love, Hermione," he said. He then strode back to the other end of the table, ignoring the looks of the other people in the room. Finally, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Hermione was steadily cutting up the cake into equal portions, removing the candles as she went.

Not once did she look at him the rest of the night.

* * *

"You're only ten years older than me, professor," Sirius said, and he winked at Hermione saucily from the front row seat.

"Is that so, Mr. Black?"

"Yep." He leaned back in the chair, hands folded behind his head. "And you're the best-looking bird in school."

"However did you guess what my Animagus form is?" she asked dryly. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"You're an Animagus?" he said.

"Yes. I was able to take full form without effort fourteen months after I began studying. Oh, but you weren't at Hogwarts then, were you?"

"I'm only a fourth year," he said, waving his hand. "Still." He waggled his eyebrows. "In only a few more years I'll be graduating."

"Oh?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Black, you are here because you disrupted the class three times yesterday."

"I only did it to get a detention with you, Miss," he said. He leaned forward, and propped his head up, elbows on the desk surface. "Could you give us private lessons in becoming Animagi?"

"'Us'? Do you mean you and your friends?"

"Yeah. James, Remus, Peter and me."

"'And I'."

"You're already an Animagus, Professor D-G."

"Mr. Black," she said, frowning at him. "Others may find my surname a joke, but I do not. Kindly use it in its entirety or Gryffindor will suffer points loss."

"Yes, Professor Dagworth-Granger," he said sheepishly.

"Thank you. As for your request, you should approach Professor McGonagall about private lessons, not I. She is the Transfiguration professor, after all. And I know for a fact that she will insist upon you waiting until _after_ you graduate, when your magic is advanced enough to tackle the process."

"Well," Sirius said, and he sighed, "will you at least wait for me? Less than four years." He grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to have this discussion with you, Mr. Black. It is completely inappropriate, no matter how jokingly you may treat the subject. You are here for a reason. Now get to work cleaning the desks while I mark. Are we clear?"

He nodded.

* * *

Tom watched jealously as Hermione smiled at whatever her date was saying. What a terrible bloody coincidence it was that they chose the very same restaurant at the very same time on the very same night! She was there with one of the Ravenclaws who was a few years ahead of her, Rufus something. Scrimgeour. That's right.

"I'm back!" Tom's date sat down opposite him.

"Nose all powdered?" he asked.

"What? Oh." She rolled her eyes. "It's a stupid expression, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Anyway, are you ready for dessert?" she asked, looking pointedly at his near-empty dinner plate. He nodded.

"What would you like?" he said, standing.

"Just a slice of warm apple pie with cream," she said, and she shrugged. "Simple tastes."

_Like Hermione_, he thought. _Brown, wavy hair like her, too_. "I will return soon."

Just as he reached the bar to order, Hermione walked over as well.

"Hello, Tom," she said, blushing. "How are you?"

"The same as I was two hours ago, when we were at Hogwarts," he said, signalling the barmaid so that he wouldn't have to look at the young woman beside him. "How is your date?"

"Alastor introduced us," she said. "They both went to the Auror Academy together, though Alastor's a few years older."

"So… you are going out with a younger man," he said, glancing at Rufus.

"Well, this is only the second date," she said. "But…"

"What can I get you?" the barmaid asked, looking at Tom, and then Hermione.

"You were here first," she said.

"Two slices of apple pie," he said, and the barmaid – whose nametag read 'Rosmerta' – wrote it down.

"Heated up?"

"Yes, please."

"Cream?"

"Yes."

"I'll bring it over soon. And…?" she said, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "What would you like, love?"

"Good evening, Hermione," Tom said, bowing his head, and he returned to his date.

_Second date… second date…_ The words echoed through his head as he half-listened to the woman across from him. She chattered away about the pie she had had at the Three Broomsticks once, and how this place – called The Quidditch Player and the Quaffle – was going to buy it out.

"You must hear quite a bit of industry news working for the _Prophet_," he said, hoping that dessert wouldn't take long to eat.

"Oh, yes. Being the food editor has its advantages…"

* * *

Standing at the school gates, Rufus turned Hermione around. They'd just returned from their fifth date, this time to a musical in London following dinner at The Leaky Cauldron. He took her hands in his.

"What about a real good night kiss this time?" he asked, the corners of his lips twitching in an almost-smile.

"Rufus," she said, "someone once told me that I should save my first kiss for the man that I love, and I… I don't feel that way about you. Not yet."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but that advice is archaic." He leaned closer. "Please say yes."

"I…" She felt a tug in her stomach, one which was definitely pulling in the direction of Hogwarts, and not to the man in front of her. "I can't. Not just yet. Give me just another week. Please?"

He sighed. The look in her eyes was sincere. "Take all the time you need, Hermione. I'm in no rush."

She smiled in relief. "Thank you, Rufus." She kissed him on both cheeks, and hugged him extra tight. "I'll floo call you about my next free weekend. Is that all right?"

"That's fine." He pushed back her hair to see her face clearly in the moonlight. "You're a beautiful witch, Hermione. A wizard would be mad not to wait for you."

She smiled shakily, nodded, and opened the gates. With a quick good night she darted through, and shut them. She waved until Rufus had Disapparated, and then began the long trek up to the school.

* * *

Tom slumped as he watched Hermione walking to Hogwarts. He rested one hand against the window pane, and made sure that she got into the building all right. Then he pushed himself away from the glass, and wandered into his bedroom. She was better at sticking to relationships than he was, that was for sure. Was she serious about this one? After Alastor Moody, there had been only two men he knew about, one in the first year of her apprenticeship, and the other one just last year. He'd forgotten their names by now.

But she and Scrimgeour had been together for two months or so.

"I am a fool," he muttered, kicking off his slippers. One of them landed on his head, but he barely noticed. "I should have kissed her properly all those months ago. That was my one chance, and I threw it away. Threw away _my_ first kiss as well." He blinked back the angry tears. "I knew she'd never want me – but what if she had? What if, in that one moment, I could have convinced her to… to…"

He rolled over, sweeping his shoe aside, and pressed his face into the pillow, determined to drown out all light and sound, and hopefully all thoughts of Hermione Dagworth-Granger.

* * *

Dumbledore was walking down the stairs as Hermione climbed them.

"Good evening, headmaster," she said, her cheeks turning pink. "I know I'm a bit late, but…"

"Could I please speak with you in my office, Hermione?"

"O-of course, sir."

It was a long and silent journey to the office. Most of the portraits were asleep, but some watched as the headmaster and the Muggle Studies professor went by. It seemed as though hours passed before they were seated on opposite sides of the desk.

"Hermione, I wish to speak to you about Tom," he said.

"Oh." She looked at her clasped hands. "What about him, sir?"

"Can you not tell how much he loves you, child?"

She stiffened, and raised her chin defiantly. "No, I cannot tell. And do you know why? Because you are speaking of feelings that are not there. He doesn't love me, sir."

"On the contrary, Hermione, he is deeply in love with you."

Tears fell down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled. "No, sir." Her voice was husky. "No. He isn't… isn't in love w-with… with me. I know that. He'd never love me. I'll always be a schoolgirl to him."

Dumbledore leaned across, and took one of her hands. "My dear, you will always be so much more. You are in love with him, are you not?"

She tore her hand away as she stood up, knocking the chair back several inches.

"Yes!" she shouted. "I've been in love with him since… since my sixth year, I think! But he'd never look at me twice. He didn't even k-kiss me last September. Am I supposed to wait all my life on the off-chance that he may develop feelings for me?"

"The feelings are already there…"

"No, headmaster. You may be the most powerful wizard alive, but you don't know everything. I may love him, but you are seeing things if you think that Tom Riddle loves me."

With that, she stormed from the office, and Dumbledore's heart clenched as he heard the wrenching sobs from the corridor.

**

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Was that appropriately heart-breaking?

**In this chapter, you may have noticed that Sirius was enquiring about Remus becoming an Animagus as well. This is because that, without the threat of Greyback on the loose, Remus isn't actually a werewolf. Hurrah! Oh, and Hermione's Animagus form is up to you. She might be a bird, or perhaps she was being sarcastic to Sirius. Who knows?**

**Now, for the purposes of the third part of the trilogy, Severus can't end up with Lily, but I'm sure that I'll come up with something. After all, he isn't going to become a Death Eater, is he? His fellow Slytherins certainly won't. In fact, no one will.**

**(Duh.)**

**Further, are you surprised that Tom has never been kissed, either? This, my dears, is because he would feel it a betrayal to his memories of Hermione if he kissed anyone else. Yes. He is that devoted to her. And I'm explaining this here because I couldn't find an appropriate place for it in the narrative.**

**Please review, my dears!**


	5. The End

"The End"

_Tears fell down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled. "No, sir." Her voice was husky. "No. He isn't… isn't in love w-with… with me. I know that. He'd never love me. I'll always be a schoolgirl to him."_

_Dumbledore leaned across, and took one of her hands. "My dear, you will always be so much more. You are in love with him, are you not?"_

_She tore her hand away as she stood up, knocking the chair back several inches._

"_Yes!" she shouted. "I've been in love with him since… since my sixth year, I think! But he'd never look at me twice. He didn't even k-kiss me last September. Am I supposed to wait all my life on the off-chance that he may develop feelings for me?"_

"_The feelings are already there…"_

"_No, headmaster. You may be the most powerful wizard alive, but you don't know everything. I may love him, but you are seeing things if you think that Tom Riddle loves me."_

_With that, she stormed from the office, and Dumbledore's heart clenched as he heard the wrenching sobs from the corridor._

What was he doing here?

Tom was back in Olympus, on his knees and facing the gods. The Messenger had brought him here; he must have done. It had been a number of years since he went to Europe, and then he had only been to Rome to obtain potions ingredients for Horace.

"You have fulfilled your promise well, Tom Riddle," Zeus said. "You remembered our warning."

"I have been haunted by your words, and by… and by _her_," Tom said, pointing downwards. "Hermione. Why must she always be around?"

"You wished life for her, Tom."

"Damn it, I _know_ that! But it's driving me mad. _She_ is driving me mad."

"Why is that?"

"You're the gods. You figure it out," he said, slumping. It was reminiscent of the last time he was at Mount Olympus, and was devastated because he thought Hermione would never love him.

"Tom." He looked up at the voice, and saw a beautiful goddess smiling down at him. But to his eyes she had nothing on the girl he adored. "After we sent you back, it was decided that Hermione would be yours, and you would be hers. She would love you. She _does_ love you, Tom. Can you not see that?"

"No, I cannot."

"Aphrodite," Zeus said, "he is only a mortal."

Tom frowned at that, but then became lost in thought. Hermione couldn't love him.

"Did you really do that?" he whispered.

"Yes," Eros said, leaning forward. "Are you grateful?"

"I didn't want that!"

"You're lying."

"No… I mean, I did… I _do_ want her to be in love with me. But I wanted it to be genuine."

"You cannot force a person's feelings," Aphrodite explained. "They must have the capacity to feel that way. It helps that she really did love you, and for more than just the moment she originally thought."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes," Zeus said. "Messenger has brought you here because we granted you both a happier life, something neither of you have allowed yourselves. You both remain unhappy." He stroked his beard. "Now I begin to see why. Tom, if you wish to be truly happy you must tell Hermione how you feel. Everything will work out. It has been decreed, after all." His eyes twinkled, and he waved his hand. Tom felt as though he had dropped through the clouds… and he woke up.

* * *

Hermione hadn't slept at all. She was half-dozing at the staff table during breakfast.

"Ho-Horace," she said, yawning partway through his name, "I don't suppose you have any potion to keep me awake today? I know it's Sunday, but I have an exam to set, and I need my wits about me."

"Late night?" Minerva asked.

"Didn't s-sleep." She rubbed at her tired eyes. She froze when a familiar professor sat beside her.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Horace said, glancing at Tom, who was reaching for toast. "Just come by the potions classroom after breakfast."

"Thank you, sir." She kept her eyes on her plate, even though she could _feel_ Tom's eyes on her. Her hands shook, and she dropped her knife. "What?" she hissed. "What is it, Tom? What did I do?"

"Who said that you did anything, Hermione?" he asked. She stood.

"I'll be at your rooms in half an hour, Horace," she said, and she left the Great Hall. Tom was immediately on the receiving end of several glares, but he merely looked away and continued to eat.

* * *

Returning to her rooms, Hermione stopped by a window. She felt much more awake now, but Horace had given her an extra potion, this one for sleeping. One teaspoon in milk before bedtime, and she'd have a full and deep eight-hour sleep.

What would happen if she took the whole bottle right now? Could it end this pain… permanently?

"Hermione?"

With a shriek, she dropped the vial. Fortunately it was made of unbreakable glass. But she still flinched when it hit the floor.

"…Hello," she said, breaking the silence.

"Sorry about that," he said. Before she could reach for the potion, he bent over and clasped it. He straightened up slowly, running his eyes over her, but she wasn't looking at him, and missed his gaze.

When he was finally standing tall, he cleared his throat. Hermione looked up at him, and gasped quietly. She took the bottle from him, turning away immediately, and thrust it into her other pocket.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"I must speak with you," he said.

"About what?"

He frowned. "Did _I_ do something wrong?"

She sighed, and shook her head. "It's just something the headmaster said last night."

"So Mr. Scrimgeour did not upset you?"

"Rufus would never do that," she said. "Not on purpose."

He flinched, and turned to look out the window. "Yes," he whispered. "I know."

"…Tom? What is it?" Feeling ashamed with herself, she placed a hand on his arm.

He moved quickly. Twisting around, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Without giving her a moment to protest he pressed his lips to hers, caressing them lovingly, and forcing her to reciprocate. Her hands went up around the back of his neck, and he bent her over the back of his arm. Both were driven purely by instinct, having never done this before.

She moaned in protest when he pulled back, but had no complaints when he whispered, "I love you, Hermione."

"Oh," she whimpered, and tears fell down her face. Crying seemed to be a regular occurrence these days. "Tom… I love you, too."

He drew in a shaky breath. "Thank Zeus for that." She looked confused. He chuckled. "Never mind."

She shook her head, smiling. "Just kiss me again."

"Mmm… Gladly."

And then they both had their second – ever – kiss with another person… with each other.

_

* * *

_

Five years later

"Dumbledore's retiring?" She chuckled. "I thought he'd never leave."

"The long and short of it, my dear," he said, "is that someone must take his place."

His wife frowned, bouncing eighteen-month-old Edith on her hip. Tom was attempting to detangle their other child, three-year-old Christopher, from his legs.

"Minerva is the deputy headmistress," she said.

"Yes, but she doesn't want the job," he said. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "She prefers to teach."

"I can understand that," she said. Edith began to complain, and Tom scooped her into his arms.

"The thing is, it's now open to anyone else." He looked at her significantly.

"Oh?" She smirked. "Do you think I have a chance?" He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I'm joking, love. You'd be wonderful." She stepped closer to him. "You have ambition," she tangled a hand in his hair, "you have charm," she kissed one cheek, "you have brilliant ideas," she kissed the other, "and you have phenomenal leadership skills."

_You have no idea_, he thought, but all other thoughts disappeared as they sank into a deep, passionate kiss.

"Da!" They pulled apart as Edith hit him on the shoulder. Christopher tugged on his mother's robes, pouting.

"Mummy?" he said.

"Yes, sweetie?"

As he watched his family, Tom Riddle – future Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – had no thoughts of Greek gods.

In truth, dear readers, since the moment they had shared their first kiss he had forgotten the gods' warning.

He had no more need of it.

THE END

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Oh my stars! It's finished!

**I hope you like the names for the children. I've been watching "The Sopranos" lately, and the box set of season four was beside me when I wrote this chapter. So Edith is named after Edie Falco, and Christopher is named after Christopher Moltisanti.**

…**So this is finished! Wow. *Shakes head* You're right. It has taken long enough. Keep an eye out for Severus and Luna's story... whatever it shall be named. Suggestions?**


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